


Write Your Letters In The Sand

by EmAndFandems



Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Canon Compliant, Internal Monologue, M/M, Originally Posted on Tumblr, Pining, Unresolved Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-20
Updated: 2020-02-20
Packaged: 2021-02-28 02:13:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 387
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22816003
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EmAndFandems/pseuds/EmAndFandems
Summary: It's another iteration of the familiar routine. Another meeting, another time it all goes unspoken.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 17
Kudos: 30





	Write Your Letters In The Sand

“Oh, but you can’t go yet!” says Aziraphale, alarmed, and Crowley looks over his shoulder.

“Why not?”  _ —convince me, please, I’d like to stay, just tell me you want me here and I’ll never leave—  _

Aziraphale clears his throat. “Well–there’s still wine to be drunk and, er–temptations to arrange, and…”

“Right. ’Course.” He sits down again. (Don’t mind the space where the words you wanted to hear ought to be. Don’t mind the gap. Don’t mind the silence of the thousand things unspoken. It wouldn’t be fair, anyhow; you haven’t said any of them either, have you?)

“So. Ahem. Where were we?” Aziraphale reaches a hand out. Crowley stares at it. “The glass, my dear.”

_ …and it’s really not fair to call me that when I know you don’t mean it the way I want you to mean it– _ Crowley shakes his head and passes over his glass.

(Ignore the way his fingers feel against yours for that split-second of contact. He will.)

The glass is filled and returned. “There you are.” (And again.)

“You were saying?” Aziraphale says, leaning back in his chair.

“Dunno, wasn’t saying much of anything really.”  _ I never do, I never can. Are you listening to what I’m not telling you? _ Crowley smiles, slow and sly. “What do you want me to say?”  _ Please say something real, tell me to say something real. _

Aziraphale frowns. The natural counter to Crowley’s smile. “Oh. I don’t know. What are your instructions for next time? The next assignment, I mean?”

Crowley thinks back. (Keep it professional. That’s all this is. All it ever can be. You know this. You’ve known this all along.) “Something in Durham, I think.”

“I suppose I’ll see you there, then.” Aziraphale raises his glass for a sip and pauses. “Do you know, I hear there’s a wonderful little restaurant somewhere in Durham. 13th century cellar conversion, riverside view. Quite the lovely spot.”

_ You always do this and we never call it what it is—  _ Crowley lifts his glass too. “Cheers to that, then. See you in Durham, angel.”

Crowley drains his glass and stands. (Don’t look back. He’s already asked you to stop once. He’s not going to ask you again. Just go. Just leave.) He closes the shop door behind him. The bell over the door tinkles.

**Author's Note:**

> Title from Queen's "'39." Please leave a comment to let me know what you thought!


End file.
